The Georgetown Chronicles: Days Two and Three

Orientation begins on Wednesday at 8 am, so I have no excuse not to be at Morning Prayer at 7:30. The rector officiates. He is Scottish. I worry that when we have lunch in a couple of weeks, I will alarm him by my enthusiasm for all things Scottish. For now, though, I'm just delighted to have been invited to celebrate at the occasional midweek Eucharist and participate in their very robust adult formation program.

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The first speaker at orientation is the Vice President for Mission and Ministry, a Jesuit. He talks about Jesuit values, about Ignatian spirituality, and it's all very lovely. It will become clear to me over these two days that the university really does take its Jesuit identity seriously.

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That's my first we're-not-in-Kansas-anymore moment. My second is when the provost speaks to us. My former provost was noteworthy for his ability to speak at indefinite length while conveying no information of any kind. My new provost is the opposite: clear, straightforward, full of information. Weird.

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Various administrators keep reminding me incongruously of famous people. The head benefits guy looks like Stanley Tucci, one of the vice deans for faculty sounds like Christine Baranski, and my new dean has the exact vocal patterns of Kamala Harris.

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Provost: "Our campus is surrounded by the richest people in DC. 80% of them are lawyers. We are not expanding."

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Also the provost, speaking about the importance of being in DC: "If you could somehow pick up the university and set it down in Iowa, you would lose a lot of what makes us who we are." Very true, but you should know that Iowa City is quite nice.

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There is a group photo of the new faculty with the Georgetown mascot, Jack the Bulldog. He is adorable, and he has the same gait as my Tess, and I am not all made sad by any of that.

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At the end of the long first day of orientation, there's a reception with the president, who is a philosopher. We have a bit of chit-chat as he's mingling. He gives a short welcoming speech in which he talks about the motto of the Society of Jesus: Ad maiorem Dei gloriam inque hominum salutem. "For the greater glory of God and the betterment of humankind." Afterward I say, "That was a rather . . . expansive . . . translation of salutem." He smiles, hangs his head in mock shame, and says, "Yes, sorry. I'm a bit off my game. I usually add a disclaimer: 'loosely translated.'"

Banter with my university president about Latin translation is the ultimate we're-not-in-Kansas-anymore moment.

It's "salvation," by the way. "For the greater glory of God and the salvation of humankind."

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I ditch the morning of Day Two, partly for the sake of sleep and partly to meet with the furniture guy. He is very helpful in picking out furniture that will fit in my new office. He looks to be about 40 but is talking about retiring soon. Turns out he's a year older than I am. It's not at all depressing that I look almost old enough to be his father.

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I go back to my office following the afternoon session. The professional picture hanger takes care of my wall of Scotland photos. The office is otherwise pretty bare, but this is a good start.